Girl with the Glass Slipper
by Aea
Summary: Freddie has a dramatic night in immediate aftermath of iOMG.


Author's Note & PSA: I just can't help putting out little iCarly stories when I'm supposed to be working on other things. I have the big finish to another story I'm writing in the works, but this thing just slipped out, so I had to post it;-)

This story uses a tidbit of set information that was revealed about iLost My Mind that was NOT in the promo. I won't be specific about what it is, so if you don't know and don't want to know, then you still won't know for sure what I'm talking about at the end of the story. It is not too big, promise;-)

I do want to take a moment to say that even though a lot of this is in good fun and I made light of the issue in a couple scenes with Freddie and Sam here, there are a LOT of people (and especially teenagers) that do struggle with drug addictions, depression, or other mental illnesses. If you, anyone you know or anyone you talk to has ANY kind of issue that is too big or confusing or scary to solve alone, or just needs to talk to someone, please ask for help. There is no shame in not wanting a problem to get worse. You do not need to wait until things hit rock bottom. And if that is already happened, then YES, things can get better. YES, I am talking to you. There are people who will help you. A more positive way to live is within your reach.

A great place to start (at least in the US) really is the Boys Town National Hotline: 1-800-448-3000. They can help with or refer almost any issue for children, teens, or adults and over 140 language options are available. You can even email or online chat at www(dot)boystown(dot)org.

If you know of a similar resource available in another country, feel free to let me know and I will add it here. Let's help everywhere we can, iCarly fans!

I do not own iCarly, Sharpie or A Dollhouse, which are referenced in this story.

With that done, now on with the show! In 5…4...3…2…

* * *

><p>If, for some strange reason, three days ago you would have asked Freddie to guess what was going to happen to him this weekend, he wouldn't in a million years have suggested something like Sam Puckett asking to join his semester project team. If, for some strange reason, you were visiting from three days in the future, even you wouldn't be able to convince him that such a thing would occur.<p>

Okay, well, maybe it would take less than a million years to guess something like that. Brad carries around fudge, after all, and Sam is Sam. But definitely, Sam asking to join his semester project _because she liked him_, that, well, _that _Freddie would have never guessed. Not in a million years.

Wee-ll… Alright, so they have kissed before. Which they both admitted wasn't half bad, actually. And, lately, well, lately she's been acting kind of strange around him, which in a _million_ years, yeah, he likely could have figured equated to some kind of crush or something. Probably. He's a smart guy and a million years is a really long time. And you'd bring some kind of proof you were really from the future, right?

But _never,_ in a million- or even _ten_ million- years, would Freddie have _ever _even entertained the idea that very early Sunday morning, on school grounds, with his semester's GPA hinging on an unfinished project, that he would be about to get his V-card stamped by Samantha Puckett in a storage room. Nope, that one he wouldn't see coming.

…No pun intended.

It's not like one of those things where later on he can say "Oh, I don't really know how that happened." He _knows_ how it happened. He has a very clear vision of Sam wrapping a finger through his belt loop while he grabbed her hair in one hand and pulled at her shirt with another, shutting his eyes tightly. He remembers them tangled and stumbling half sideways and half backwards up the three steps to lean them both against the dark maintenance storage, disturbingly aware that Carly was probably still watching from the Biology lab. He'll never forget standing in front of her in the courtyard as she says "Oh, holy chiz. If I'm blowing this all to hell then at least…" and pulls him in for another kiss and he lets her.

But since you don't know all that, maybe he should back up a little. Here's how it started.

* * *

><p><strong>12:02 AM<strong>

"Sorry."

"It's cool."

It's _weird_, that's what it is. He can't believe he sounds so casual, so callous.

The first thing that occurs to him is that this is for Carly's project and Sam's in on it, and there's a dark head of hair about to pop out from some hiding spot and tell him that he was a surprise test subject. He thinks he performed admirably, actually, by not freaking out or jumping all over the idea.

So there's about fifteen seconds of silence.

Then thirty.

No one pops out. Sam's still staring at him, eyes glassy. Freddie's not sure she even _blinks_. He feels short of breath. Is this an asthma attack? Does he have asthma? He can't remember. He only knows one thing is true.

_Sam is serious._

Freddie's not sure what to do. He's so uncomfortable right now, in a horrible, hollow sort of way. He's the one who encouraged Sam to do this, the one that gave her hope things would go her way. The sudden force of desire surprises him; he wants _so badly _to make this right. But he's got nothing and it's choking him. He wishes he could take this whole conversation back, but he can't, and he has no idea how to move forward. Does he pretend it never happened? Laugh it off?

Pressure's building in his chest. He hasn't taken a full breath since their lips parted. He has to _move_, has to _breathe_, has to do s_omething…_ He thinks he's just going to go the selfish route: just run away, maybe jump on a bus and _leave_ this awful spot.

"If I try to run away right now, are you going to break my arm?" He winces a little, like he used to a year or two ago, because even though he could probably pin her now, Sam fights dirty and she gets what she wants. She'd do some damage before he got her down.

Sam closes her eyes for a moment and huffs a laugh with a slight shake of her head. She swallows thickly and licks her lips before responding quietly. "No, I won't. _Are_ you going to run away?"

Freddie thinks about this for a moment. Sam is being very quiet, and that's never good. His whole body feels a little out of control. Something bad is about to happen. "Yeah." And then he takes off running towards the road.

* * *

><p><strong>1:07 AM<strong>

Freddie mentally hears his mother's voice warning him about people with pierced eyelids. So, he carefully chooses to drop into the seat at the very edge of bench, farthest from his fellow bus-stop patron and casts a fearful look in that direction. He's sprinted here from the school and didn't bring his bus pass or his wallet, so it's not like he can get very far, but the idea that a magic bus will drive by and take him far, far away is appealing enough to risk being stabbed to death by eyelid-man.

Still, he's feeling out of breath and a bit twitchy at the moment, which he feels is understandable. Pierced-eyelid man is watching him with unnerving consistency, so Freddie's sort in fear for his life, and the adrenaline that powered his flight from campus is slow to burn off. Freddie starts to drum his fingers on the metal bench frame, a nervous tick quickly silenced by a glare.

Silence. Freddie takes a deep breath and tries to calm down a little.

Sam did not follow him. _Sort of wish she had. _The quiet here should be soothing. _It isn't._

"Kid, are you alright?" Pierced-eyelid man has extended a hand partway between them, palm outward facing. It's a concerned-but-defensive gesture; as though Freddie will pounce at any second and he's done it to Sam a hundred times: when breaking bad news, or failing to bring enough bacon to get her through rehearsal.

Freddie stares silently, unhappily, not really hearing anything. His heat is still pounding in his ears.

"Look, kid, whatever problem you have- there's help, you know?" Freddie laughs sharply in response, but it's self-deprecating. He's pretty sure there will be no helping him once Sam gets ahold of him again. The guy scoots closer slowly, apparently sensing that Freddie is not likely to attack. Under the single light on the corner, Freddie notices he's wearing more eyeliner than Sam and Carly combined, and his hair is bright green. "The world is full of problems, but you don't need to turn to drugs. My name's Josiah. Will you tell me yours?"

Full of problems indeed. Freddie nods in agreement. His own voice surprises him when he answers through his distraction. "_Sam_."

Josiah nods. "Hello, Sam. You look like you've had a rough night." Freddie starts to correct him- Sam is his _problem_, not his name- but thinks the better of it. It's probably for the best that he avoids giving his name to strangers on a sketchy street corner anyway. Josiah takes a pen from his pocket and pulls lightly on Freddie's forearm, turning the inside of his wrist up, and starts to write. "I'm gonna to write down a phone number for you. Call it. At least once, ok? Just talk to them. They help kids who are in trouble. They can help you."

Freddie sputters and his jaw drops as he glances at his newly decorated arm. _"¡Caracoles, qué_ _dices?_ No way. It's not what you're thinking. I'm not _high_. I don't _do_ that. I can't imagine, if I- My mom would _kill_ me. _Really._"

Josiah nods once again. "Whenever you're ready, Sam. Fate helps those who help themselves."

* * *

><p><strong>2:25 AM<strong>

Freddie leaves the bus stop and returns to Ridgeway after an amount of time that precludes fleeing in horror. He's not exactly sure how to get back inside except through the door from the Biology lab, and he's not exactly sure if he wants to _go_ back inside. He loiters in the dark on the edges of the school grounds, wondering.

Carly is sitting just outside the door. She's obviously been there awhile- there are three empty coffee cups and a sound-asleep Gibby on the ground next to her and she's wearing Gibby's jacket- but her eyes are scanning the dark courtyard anxiously. Freddie stands still, watching, and trying to drum up some semblance of feeling.

_Carly. _Awhile back, he'd love this opportunity to stare at her openly without getting shot down, but he hasn't really thought about his crush on Carly for a long time. Somewhere along the line, who they already were together became more important to him than what they could be. Did he still want more?

Carly had been his ideal girl. She had amazed him, and in some ways, still did. Carly was loving, compassionate and welcoming. But four years ago, the quiet, dorky kid that filmed talent show auditions would have never believed he'd be as close to Carly was he was now. If that kid had known he'd get that, would that crush have ever happened or would be have been happy?

Four years ago he would have risked it, he thinks. Put their fledgling friendship on the line for a shot a kiss or a date or just the chance for Carly to look twice at him. If he's being honest with himself, he wouldn't mind it. So, does he still want more? Maybe.

But he doesn't need it. Not from Carly, at any rate. She's like the sun, sending warmth all around her, but in a way that means what you get doesn't take away from what everyone else gets.

The girl in question glances around the courtyard once more before furtively pulling a short, slim stick from her pocket. Freddie's eyes widen as Carly brings it to her mouth for a brief moment, and then pulls away quickly.

_No way. Carly…?_

Freddie grins and quickly lopes across the grass to where the building lights just barley hit the cement patio. "You are _so_ _busted_, Carly Shay!"

Carly lets out a dainty "Eep!" and briefly chokes on the Sharpie cap still in her mouth. Freddie chuckles out loud and walks properly into her vision, getting a swat in his direction for his efforts. Carly puts one hand to her heart, the other still holding the marker dangerously close to Gibby's slack face. "Jeez, Freddie! I thought you were a teacher! Don't do that!"

Freddie eases himself onto the ground next her, trying to subtly look through the Biology windows for Sam or any sign of his impending doom. Carly leans back down over Gibby to continue her work. For a moment, there's silence.

Freddie cracks first. They both knew he would.

"How's Sam?"

"She's not going to break any of your bones. She wanted you to know that. She's not angry." Carly doesn't look up from whatever design she's creating on Gibby's forehead.

"I know. Where is she?" Carly hums casually, but she's a terrible liar and Freddie doesn't buy it for a second. _Sam would have pulled an incredibly convincing story out of her ass and stuck an insult at the end to boot._ "I know you were watching earlier, Carly. There's no way you didn't talk to her. There's no way you don't know where Sam is."

_Clack_. The tiny marker cap gets slammed against the pavement with some force, but it's slight and lacks potency. _Sam would have punched the wall._ Carly continues her work silently. Freddie is not an expert at dealing with women, but he knows Carly well enough and waits _her_ out this time. "No, I really don't, because I don't want you to talk me into telling you. If she wants to be found she will be. But I did tell her I would keep watch out here and text her if I saw you come back. "

"_You're_ angry at me." Freddie sighs. He figured as much- don't girls always stick together about this sort of thing?- but it'd have been nice to get his side out to Carly without judgment.

"_You're_ smart." Carly's still jabbing at Gibby's head with her marker, and Freddie gently pulls it from her hand. She's not blessed with the family artistic skill. Even if it's not up to Sam's standard from last year, it'd be cruel to leave Gibby to her unfocused doodles.

"Carly…" Freddie begins uncertainly. "What should I do?" He's miserable. Carly hates him, Sam's God-knows-where, and he's probably going to fail his computer science class. "I don't want you to be mad. I don't want Sam to be so upset like she was. But I don't-_ I don't know what to do_."

Carly's face crinkles a little as she finally takes pity on him. She can't hold a grudge to save her life, and Freddie has never been as grateful for his squishy-hearted neighbor as he is right now. "Was it really a surprise to you?" She sounds a little uncertain herself, and her tone is still a little on the cool side.

Freddie can't believe it. "Uh, _yeah_. Surprise is an understatement. Why would you ask that?"

"Well…" Carly is staring a spot on the concrete, eyes drifting along errant cracks. "It's just that- You know, you guys have kept secrets about this kind of thing before. When I saw, I thought maybe…"

"Trust me, Carly, I had no idea." He turns to face her. "Did _you_ know? I thought you said she liked Brad!"

"_I_ never said that. _You said that!_" Carly spins on him in response.

"_MoodFace_ said that! You were the one who just _had_ to get them together! I _never_ wanted to do that!" They are both standing very close to each other by now, in an eerily similar tableau to one earlier that night yet with an entirely different feeling. Freddie sits down quickly as soon as he realizes it, and Carly slips down next to him, watching him from the corner of her eye. Her voice is quiet when she finally speaks.

"We really screwed this one up, didn't we?"

"Yep."

Carly's dark eyes search him full on for a moment before she leans back on her elbows and shrugs a bit. "Oh well. Sam'll get over it."

"Huh?"

Carly continues undaunted. "I love her, don't get me wrong, but after everything she's done to you, she's earned the shoot-down. Some heartbreak'll be good for her. Mellow her out, maybe."

Freddie tilts his head, unable to believe what he's hearing. "What? Carly, what's the matter with you? How can you say that? This is _Sam_ we're talking about!"

"She deserves it, doesn't she? She's not the most loving person in the world. She's pretty abrasive. Selfish, even. You know that."

"Stop it Carly! Sam's not like that. Not with us." He's not _quite_ shouting, but he feels his anger bubbling up, making him louder than necessary.

"Are you kidding me? She's a terror! She's lucky to even have you around!"

"That's not true! I think Sam's amazing!" They're both definitely shouting now.

"Why? You hate her!"

"_I love her!_"

Freddie's mouth drops open. Carly grins triumphantly. And Gibby snores.

* * *

><p><strong>3:30 AM<strong>

Freddie has given up, and is now simply lying face down on the pavement, as though flattened by the weight of his admission. Carly is still bouncing in her seat next to him. Freddie lolls his head her way and grimaces, just a little.

"Tell the truth. How long are you just going to sit there acting all smug?"

The brunette makes a big show of thinking, but her giggle ruins it. "Hmm…I don't know. How long has it been?"

"About fifteen minutes." Freddie indulges her.

"That should do it. But I don't want to hear any more about how bad of a liar I am. Ever!"

Freddie groans. "You're going to bring this up all the time, aren't you? I'll never be able to forget it."

"Nope." Carly pops her 'p' in the same way Sam does, and Freddie stares for a moment, wondering idly who picked up the habit from whom. However this disaster turns out (and with him and Sam going the way they are, smart money is on a horrific train-wreck of denouement, whatever shape it may take) he has to admit that the two girls share an impressive friendship. "But don't you see? I don't want you to forget. I don't want secrets. I don't want you- or Sam- to keep things to yourself. If this is what you want, then this is _good_. This can work!"

"Ugh." It's the only response he can muster. Carly's amusement abruptly ceases.

"What are you going to do, Freddie? Now that you know?"

He tries to picture his options. On one hand, he could pretty easily tell Sam that he's very sorry, sorrier than he's even been about anything, really, but he can't be what she wants. He's pretty sure he'll end up with fewer arguments and fewer bruises going that route. The next couple episodes of iCarly will be terrible and awkward, Sam's jokes will be more cutting for a month or so, and then everything will fade back to normal. Some new troubled kid, or a future chef or tattoo artist or maybe even _Brad _will attract Sam's attention.

But…

Sam is like lightning; beautiful and deadly. Not easily captured, but worth chasing. He remembers Sam laughing in his room, teasing him about her computer skills. He remembers her insistence that they get extra salt and butter on their popcorn while out at the movies with Brad, because she only ever goes with Carly and Carly hates it. He remembers her lips pressed against his on a balcony at night, and again right at this very spot. He _could_ tell her that he's stupid and a coward and he will probably ruin everything, but maybe they should give these ridiculous churning feelings a shot. _Two_ _on the same piece of_ _wreckage_ _would stand a_ _better chance_ _than each on their own. _

Carly breaks his silence, which has obviously made her unhappy.

"Seriously, though, Freddie. You are one of the most important people in my life. And I want you to be happy. I want that _so_ much for you. If Sam is what you want, then go for it!" She grabs a fistful of hair and pulls his head off the cement a little more painfully than he'd prefer. Carly and Sam are _definitely _more similar than most people give them credit for. "But I have _never_ seen her put herself on the line like that. And I swear to God, if you string her along and break Sam's heart by being a jerk about this, I will never forgive you. All that stuff people on TV say about 'we'll all be friends no matter what'? Not a chance. If you hurt Sam I will hurt you." Carly's not very good at making threats, but there's no mistaking her sincerity.

Freddie rolls onto his back. "You really love, her, don't you?" It's nothing new, and not a surprise. Carly nods, and there's a tiny, tiny sting that even after all they've been through together, he knows he'll always be second best. But Carly and Sam have always been a package deal, and they are the people he's loved so much because they have each other above all else. He wouldn't dream of taking that away from either of them. "And I guess…I do too?" It's more question than statement, but Carly still nods in agreement and pats him gently on the head.

"You passed the test, grasshopper. Go inside and find your girl."

* * *

><p><strong>4:44 AM<strong>

"There are still Fat Cakes on the food cart." Principal Franklin is entirely confused by this simple fact, and remarks on it to Freddie, who has just entered the hallway.

"Sir?" Freddie skids to a stop, having searched unsuccessfully through the biology lab, cafeteria, and home ec rooms for Sam. He'd been hoping to find her guarding the dwindling snack supply. No such luck.

"Is Samantha alright?" For all the trouble she's ever caused him, Franklin looks honestly worried. Freddie's chest clenches. Sam is and always has only ever been Sam, but so many people care about her because of it. He's one of the few who have a chance to be loved back.

If he hasn't ruined it already.

_Where is Sam?_

Humiliatingly, he jumps and screeches unbecomingly when someone taps him on the shoulder. Brad's mellow voice rolls out next.

"Hey, man. Where've you been?" Brad pulls a Fat Cake off of the cart, and takes a sip from the soda already in his hand. He's curious, but not overly concerned. Freddie kicks himself. Not only has he chased Sam off, but he left Brad to complete their project totally alone without a clue as to what was happening with him and Sam.

"Look, Brad, I'm really sorry that I-" Brad waves him off before he finished the sentence.

"It's cool."_ Sorry. It's cool. Sorry. It's cool. _It echoes around in Freddie's head. "We figured you needed a minute if you were seeing extra heads on frogs. Feel better now? Did you get something to eat?"

Freddie's eyes narrow. "_We_?"

Brad continues without ever hearing him. "You should have seen Carly going all matchmaker for a minute there. It was hilarious! But me and Sam got through all the test subjects we need. She just started yelling at people to line up and _no_ one wanted to mess with her. It was amazing. She's pretty impressive." It's a rather novel feeling for Freddie to want to punch someone besides Sam in the face. It's ridiculous really, because not only does he already _know _that Sam is in love with him and not Brad, but Brad is one of his good friends. Where's this coming from? "She's proofing a rough draft of the final paper now. We could your help with the section on-"

Freddie breaks away from his wildly spiraling jealousy long enough to pick up the most important point. "Wait. She's still here? You _know_ where she is?"

Brad wrinkles his forehead and gives Freddie a sympathetic look. "You're still seeing those two-headed frogs, aren't you?"

_Wham! _At the end of his rope, Freddie is compelled into action. He grabs two fistfuls of Brad's collar and heaves the poor boy against the locker bank. "I'm a man on the edge, Brad. _A man on the edge._ _Where is Sam?_"

"Ri-ri-ri-ght where we've been al-all night." Brad stutters. "We haven't moved, I swear!" Freddie drops him and he collapses into an ungraceful heap on the floor.

_Hidden in plain sight_. Sam's favorite strategy. Just sit where it's logical to be and no one thinks to find her there. Why didn't he remember that sooner? How many times has he watched her cut class by hiding in the computer lab? _You're losing it, Freddie._

"Wait!" Brad uprights himself. He tossed the tiny Fat Cake package to Freddie lightly. "You probably don't want to go face the dragon without this."

Freddie wastes no time in running for the classroom.

* * *

><p><strong>5:00 AM<strong>

He walks into the room and immediately braces for something heavy to be thrown at him.

Nothing.

Freddie opens one eye cautiously, and smiles. Sam is adorable. She's leaning precariously in her seat, balanced only on one leg of the chair and propping a foot on the desk for additional stability, but her head has fallen over the edge of the chair and she is sound asleep. Her hair is falling down unencumbered over the back, and the weight of it arches her neck nicely, so that he can see the bridge of her nose and her mouth from his spot at her back.

He could kiss her pretty easily in that pose.

Freddie considered that for a minute, but decides against it. She's asleep, for one thing, which makes it just a little skeevey, and he doesn't put it past her to punch him when she wakes up just because she can. Instead, he holds up his Fat Cake in one hand and crinkles the wrapper. Sam sits straight up at the sound, forgetting her carefully balanced position, and comically flaps her arms about in failing bid to keep her equilibrium. The chair careens backwards, but Freddie reacts quickly, jumping forward and snatching the rim of the chair with his other arm just before Sam's head meets ground.

They are both breathing a little heavily from suprise, and end up dangerously face to face: Sam almost flat on her back and Freddie leaning over her. She swallows and exhales deeply. "Nice catch."

"Thanks. Can we talk?" Freddie is whispering, although he doesn't know why. They have already attracted enough attention to draw stares. Sam's eyes cut to the left and right, and Freddie knows, _knows_, that she's looking for likely escape routes. Finding none, she agrees.

"Yeah, fine. Whatever. Can we take this outside so I can try to salvage at least a shred of my reputation?" Freddie begins to push her chair upright so she can stand, but Sam stops him by putting a hand on his bicep. "Wait a sec." She filches the Fat Cake from his hand, tears it open and shoves the entire thing into her mouth in one bite, then tucks the wrapper into the front pocket of his jeans. "Okay. Mama's ready. Carry on."

* * *

><p><strong>5:20 AM<strong>

It's a testament to how distracted he is that they end up in the same courtyard outside that this whole mess started in. Or maybe to the fact that he can't pick a lock to save his life, so they're forced to use the exit Sam already broke open earlier that night.

Sam folds herself into her preferred spot against the storage shed. There's a faint lightening in the east and Freddie knows he's running out of time. Pretty soon the school will open the doors again, and he has a terrible feeling that if Sam can lose him in the commotion of everyone leaving, he will have lost his chance forever. A real-life fairy tale: the magic begins and ends in one night. Can he make Sam see it in time?

"I'm sorry. About earlier. I shouldn't have taken off like I did."

"It's cool."

Freddie hangs his head. _What goes around…_

Silence reigns for a short time, both of them so uncertain.

"What is _that_?" Freddie doesn't know what she's talking about, at first, until Sam points to his arm. "I can't picture you decided to get a tat tonight, Fredling."

"Oh, that." Freddie stretches his arm out so she can see it properly, and takes no small thrill at the way her eyes linger on his bicep. "I met a guy earlier who wanted to save me from being a troubled teen."

"Oh. Did he?"

"Well, he didn't solve my most pressing problem."

More silence.

_I love you. _

_I _

_Love _

_You._

He knows it. He's had the realization. Sam's already said as much to him. Why can't he just say it?

"Let's just forget it ever happened, ok? It'll be like we never came to this stupid lock in." Sam stands up and gestures back to the building. "You and Brad go do your thing. I'll do something else."

"You'll fail Comp Sci." Freddie moves to stand directly in front of her, in case she tries to run away.

"I don't care."

"Sam, there's something I need to tell you." Sam is still leaning against the wall, so he leans toward her, intentionally moving into her personal space when she has nowhere to retreat to. She's tense, and doesn't respond in any noticeable way. He takes a deep breath. And promptly chickens out of his confession. "Happy Birthday, Sam." And then he presses his mouth gently to hers.

Sam's hands grasp at him and her voice cracks when she speaks. It's a whisper, speaking more to herself than Freddie. "Oh holy chiz, if I'm blowing this all the hell then at least…" She moves into the kiss urgently.

For two minutes, Freddie knows nothing else. They stumble over the small steps to the storage shed, making Sam giggle at how off-balance they are. She swings the padlock on the latch to the storage room. "Do you want me to break it?"

"Maybe we should hold on for a second." Freddie takes a deep breath, trying to think clearly. He's forgotten something. Something he meant to say- or do- or _something_. Something important. Sam leans in again and by some miracle, he's able to take a step a back. "Wait, Sam."

The blonde pulls back. "Freddie, I get it. It's ok. I know you don't feel the way I feel. You don't have to worry-"

"Sam? Freddie? Oh, _no_. I'm having one of _those_ dreams again. Where's my lederhosen? I'll need to act fast to stop the squirrels _this_ time." Gibby has woken up and now peers up at them, on alert. "Gamma Gibby _away_!"

Freddie confusedly turns to watch Gibby run across the courtyard, throw himself into some nearby shrubbery, and promptly resume snoring.

When he turns back around to speak to Sam, all he sees is the Biology door falling shut.

* * *

><p><strong>6:17 AM<strong>

Sunrise.

Principal Franklin comes over the PA system announcing that doors are being opened and breakfast is served in the cafeteria. Sam is long gone.

Freddie's left holding a Fat Cake wrapper instead of a glass slipper, but somewhere out there is the girl who fits it perfectly. She can't run forever. Grinning, he pulls Carly's marker from his pocket and flattens the foil wrapper against his leg. He'll only ever need this quick note on the inside to remember:

_4/17/11 – __I__+U_

He tucks the wrapper back into his pocket and turns to go inside.

He'll find her. _Fate helps those who help themselves._

* * *

><p><em>End.<br>_

Couple of notes here:

The 'Two on a wreck together' line is from the play 'A Dollhouse' (Sometimes written 'A Doll's House') by Ibsen. One of my favorite quotes, despite the fact that it's not really one of my favorite plays. 'Que dices' here essentially means "What did you say?", but with a sense of disbelief. 'Caracoles!' Is an expression similar to 'Good grief!'. Literally it means "snails!";-) My Spanish is much flawed, so if you have corrections, please let me know!


End file.
